


Death Blow Dazzling

by winkwonk



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Black Romance, Bloodplay, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkwonk/pseuds/winkwonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a vengeful Disciple appears out of time, the Condesce offers her a pail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Blow Dazzling

**Author's Note:**

> Though these are the post-scratch Ancestors, you may notice that they have some of the mannerisms of Meenah and Meulin. This was intentional. WARNING for lots of blood, biting, clawing, etc. that would be REALLY unsafe and unsanitary for people who aren't fictional trolls. Podficcers: no need to ask! I love podfic and would be delighted if you wanted to read my story. However, I might be too embarrassed to listen.

"So this is my latest gift, hm?"

Your Lord certainly has a strange sense of humor. There's a nagging voice at the back of your head-- _It's critical that we understand cherubic nature_ \--but you gnaw at the inside of your cheek to silence it. Damn paradox space getting your memory all confused.

She's drenched, her hair matted like a used mop, covered with dirt and her own green blood and her clothes are just as ragged as the rest of her. She's just been pulled from her timeline and dropped here. There is murder in her eyes and blue staining her lips and the underside of her nails. She is straight up ravishing and when she lunges at you, your breath hitches.

She fights like a wild beast, natural as breathing. Your most powerful troops would do wrong to underestimate her, though you suppose it didn't matter in the end.

You realize too late that you've been caught up in your admiration. She knocks you to the ground, a look of self-satisfaction in her eyes, and you think _This is the end_ , just before she sinks her claws into the back of your aural fins--and like a kitten with its first guppy, she ain't letting go. Of course it would be easy to make her, but where would be the fun? The pain is exquisitely sharp. Then she smiles at you, all cutesy-fanged and _hideously_ hot, and rocks her hips, just grazing your bulge. You could say you were trying to ignore it, but this is no time to be koi.

"Been that long since you saw another troll?"

"Been that long since his _Holiness_ gave you a pail?"

"What's that? _I can't hear you_!" She releases her grip, cupping her own ears. You take the opportunity to kiss her.

If she's surprised, she doesn't show it. She kisses just like you were hoping she would. She takes your lips as if they were always hers to take, and never yields. Her lips are as rugged as the rest of her, cracked and coarse from a lifetime spent in the wilderness.

_Now here_ , you muse, _is a troll_. She is truly among the finest of your race, living proof that the system works. She'd probably consider that an insult, and you file it away for future use.

Your blood is trickling down the back of your neck. You did a number on me, kitty, you think, and to show your gratitude you bite down on her lips. She hisses, arching her back, then leans down close. Her breath is hot against your skin, the curves of her body are pressing tantalizingly against your own.

"I am going to _fuck_ your shit _up_." she whispers.

_YES!_

"Oooh, I'm shaking."

Her guard is down. You let your knee brush against her nook. You get a thrill at the little sigh she emits at your touch. For all her fortitude she is remarkably sensitive, and her eyes betray everything.

"Good kitty," you coo.

"I'll start with the hair," she growls. She kisses you again, just long enough for you to get a taste of her blood.

"Gurl." You hold her by the shoulders. "You gonna fetch us a pail or what?"

"I wouldn't dream of degrading the royal flesh with my rusty old thing."

You can tell she's delighted by the prospect. You retrieve your pail. Solid gold and jewel-encrusted, it's twice the size of the standard issue. A hand-carved obsidian spade is emblazoned on the front, lined with crushed shells as pink as your blood.

She fuckin'  _snorts_ at it.

"Oh my god, I can't."

"You... can't?"

Your eye twitches, and you clench your fist around your 2x3dent, but before you fly off the handle, she glances back at your pail and breaks down into a fit of laughter. "I just--I mean--what."

You regain your composure. "Yo. 'Nuff." you say, when she sinks to the floor, apparently determined to make a show of this insolence.

"Oh my god," she wipes the tears from her eyes, still gasping for air, "I _need_ to get in that thing."

You do not understand lowbloods.

You are also not going to question it when she starts stripping off the remnants of her battle-worn dress.

You flash her your most patronizing smile, and wave your hand with a flourish.

"Undress me."

She does. She has her disdain down to an art form, apathetic to any tears in the cloth. She throws it in the heap with her own filthy rags and stomps on it for good measure. When she reaches for your gold, you slap her wrist away and she appears to do a quick assessment, finally nodding silently. The reminder of your status must be fuel for her hate.

You do an assessment of your own. Far from being weak and stretched thin as you'd expect, her petite stature and soft curves just barely disguise her firm muscles. You realize that you don't know exactly what place on the timeline she's come from. Is the extermination of her aberrant lover still fresh in her mind? Or has she spent countless sweeps hiding in caves and training for a revenge that would never come? Until now, you remind yourself. This time shit gives you a haddock.

“We erased you, y'know. You died in your little shithole, and history forgot all abou’cha.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “ _You_ didn’t.”

Then she jumps on you. She’s all teeth and claws, and she’s too close, pressing hard against your body. You shove back, and you tear each other apart, and when you come like a crashing wave, you know you’ll never be able to get the stench of her out of your system. You don’t want to.

\--

She’s flopped herself down on the floor, peering at you through half-open eyes. You’re sure you would both be more comfortable in the sopor, so you neglect to mention it and sprawl out beside her instead. She had refused the cigar you offered, but snatches yours and takes a drag and you chuckle when this smooth move backfires spectacularly. Eventually you both settle into a comfortable silence, with her batting at your gold while you rake your claws through her hair, occasionally pinching and poking at each other.

She sits up, alert, her energy renewed. She looks you straight in the eyes, an offense only the very best kismesis would dare commit. It’s deeply unsettling and you’re struck, suddenly, by an ancient memory; the smell of the sea. Alternia when it was new and yours for the taking.

“You tried, though.” She’s crawled into your lap, tracing shapes on your bare skin. Brash, but you allow it. “To forget me. Why is that? You sent people after me. Did you ever--aaah!”

You catch her hand, squeezing almost hard enough to break, then bring her hand to your lips. You nibble on her knuckles, getting used to the taste of her blood now. “Looks like I caught’cha hook line and sinker, huh?”

Gurl just laughs like that’s the funniest cod-damn thing, and you’ve already filled your pail to the brim but damn, you’re gonna enjoy shutting her ass up.

-fin-

 


End file.
